


Vampirism Never Pays

by Shwoo



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Humor, Non-Graphic Violence, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:11:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shwoo/pseuds/Shwoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jurgen moves in across the street from Sam & Max. They're not pleased.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vampirism Never Pays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Suaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suaine/gifts).



"Hey Max, look!" said Sam suddenly. He pointed out the window.

Behind him, Max crashed to the floor. "What is it, Sam?" he said, pulling the suction cups off his feet. "Are the Titans of Greek myth rampaging through the streets, crushing the fleeing masses underfoot and lowering property values all across the city?"

Sam shook his head. "I keep telling you, Max, that was a once in a lifetime occurrence." Last Tuesday was the most fun anyone had had for a long time, except for maybe the fleeing masses and the real estate agencies. "Someone's moving into the apartment block across the street!"

Max ran up to the window and looked out at the moving vans. After a few seconds, he looked back at Sam. "Uh... Remind me again why I should care?"

"It's cursed, remember?" said Sam. "Everyone who's ever lived there has died! I heard about someone who lived there a couple years and moved out. And fifty years later, he died peacefully in his sleep!"

Max gasped.

"And another guy who lived there was walking home one night, and he got mugged and left for dead!" continued Sam.

Max gasped again. "And did he die?" He pulled his gun out and held it idly by his side.

"Well..." said Sam, "no, but I figure it's gotta be any day now."

Max began shooting out the window, aiming for the delivery guys. "Who could possibly be stupid enough to buy... Hey, I nearly got one!" He waved at the delivery guy, who was yelling up at him and shaking his fist.

"Best not antagonise them, Max," said Sam, resisting the temptation to pull Max's gun arm down. He didn't want Max to start shooting at him instead. "Remember that time we got back from lunch to find all our stuff had been mysteriously transported to..." He ended the sentence in a gasp.

Jurgen had just got out of a taxi.

Sam bared his teeth. He wasn't sure what it was— probably something to do with Jurgen's off-putting camp, or the fact that he'd killed them— but just looking at the vampire made him angry.

Max stared. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Sam got a grip on himself. "I'd say he's moving into the apartment block across the street." He gave serious thought to pulling out his gun, but at this distance, he'd probably hit one of the moving guys, and he had no desire to repeat that debacle.

"I knew _someone_ was gonna drive down property values today," said Max, waving his gun around. Sam ducked instinctively. "Can we kill him again, Sam? Please?"

Sam shrugged, more casually than he felt. "Can't think of a reason not to."

"Goody!"

-

Sam and Max ran across the street. Sam vaguely noticed a screech of brakes from behind them, but no crunching of metal or screaming, so there was probably no point in looking around.

"Hey, Jurgen!" called Sam.

Jurgen glanced at them, and rolled his eyes. "Oh, look at the objects that were dragged in by the cat," he drawled, in that annoying accent of his.

"Can it, Jurgen," snapped Sam. "What's the big idea, moving across the street from us?"

Before Jurgen could say anything, Max put in "And didn't we kill you? I'm pretty sure I remember killing you."

"Ja..." said Jurgen, inspecting his nails. "But, as you know, I am a vampire. We have our ways of getting around such things." He giggled. "Besides, I am now reformed into a citizen who abides by the law in every way. No more late night blood binges, of course, but that is a small price to pay."

Sam wasn't sure if he'd heard Jurgen correctly. "You don't drink any blood at all?" He didn't believe Jurgen for a second, of course. Who'd ever heard of a vampire that didn't drink blood? A vampire who didn't drink blood might as well just be some pale guy who hated garlic and had super strength and the ability to turn into a bat.

"What do you drink instead?" said Max. "Ketchup?"

"Tomato juice?" suggested Sam.

"Cornflour and water with red food colouring?" said Max.

Jurgen rolled his eyes some more. "Oh, stop it with the lack of style, you are causing physical pain. I, of course, drink... wine."

"A perpetually drunk vampire loose on the streets of our neighbourhood," said Sam, trying his best not to smile at the thought and failing.

"You'd fit right in!" said Max.

"Oh please," said Jurgen. He folded his arms. "Still making the wisecracks, I see. Do you not have the unlives of more innocent vampires to ruin?"

Max looked up at Sam. "Don't we?"

"Not until next week, Max," said Sam. To Jurgen, he said, "We're watching you, Jurgen. So don't try anything funny." He put on his best serious face, and was a little disconcerted when Jurgen giggled again.

"Ja, whatever," said Jurgen, when he recovered. "You are, of course, wasting your so _valuable_ time."

-

For the rest of the day, Sam and Max took turns watching Jurgen's apartment block, except for when they'd gone out for lunch and when one of their favourite daytime talk shows had come on and when they just hadn't felt like it. Finally, Sam spotted Jurgen walking out the front door. He and Max leaned out the window, but it was hard to see where he'd gone.

"Dangle me out the window, Sam!" suggested Max.

Sam did, holding him by his feet, and then said, "Do you see him?"

"See who?" said Max. "I just wanted to feel the blood rushing to my head." He held his arms out wide. "Aaah..."

"Jurgen, bonehead!" said Sam. He was seriously considering dropping him.

"_Oh_, right," said Max. He looked around. "Uh... I think he went down Narrow Avenue."

"Okay, let's go!" said Sam, letting go.

He ran down the stairs, pausing as he left the building to catch Max, who had apparently been holding onto the windowsill or something.

They looked around. The street was empty. Well, not empty, there were still cars and people and the occasional creature to weird for even the six-foot dog to understand, but it was totally devoid of blue-skinned emo vampires.

Sam put Max down and said, "Hey, where'd he go?"

Max didn't reply. He was too busy rubbing some feeling back into his feet.

Sam took one last look around, and said, "Well, we might as well take this opportunity to perform an illegal search of Jurgen's apartment and see if we can turn up anything incriminating."

Max stood up. "Do we have to? I still have nightmares about his interior decorating."

"Max, you have nightmares about everything," replied Sam.

"Good point," said Max, absently stamping on a passing bug.

-

A rat scampered away as they entered Jurgen's apartment building. The paint was flaking off the walls, and everything was covered with a thick layer of dust, making Sam want to sneeze. They ascended the stairs, and Sam was sure that every step was about to collapse under their weight.

"You'd think that a cursed apartment block would be a little more out of the ordinary," he observed, looking around for ghostly apparitions or signs of dead bodies in the walls.

"Yeah, this place just looks like everywhere else around here," agreed Max. He ran his finger over a red smear on the wall and sniffed it. "Aw..." It must not have been blood. Sam wasn't sure he wanted to ask.

"Maybe we're just here at the wrong..." Sam trailed off as they reached the next landing. "Superball!"

"The wrong Superball?" said Max. He was looking right at the black clad man guarding the nearest door, but he didn't seem to have noticed him. "You're starting to lose it, Sam."

"No, knucklehead, it's Agent Superball!" said Sam. He pointed. Max squinted.

Superball nodded at them. "Hello, sir. Mister President sir."

"How is it that you keep showing up wherever we go, Superball?" asked Sam. It seemed like every door was guarded these days, and he was getting sick of it.

"Model recycling!" said Max, before Superball could reply.

Sam looked at him. "I'm not sure that applies to this situation, Max." Then he looked at Superball. "Don't tell me you're working for Jurgen again."

"That's right, sir," responded Superball. He glanced over his shoulder at the door he was guarding, and Sam thought he saw a brief flash of disgust.

"Surely you can't be happy guarding this, uh..." began Sam, looking at the door Superball was standing in front of. It looked like a door.

"The door may be poor quality, sir," said Superball, "but Master Jurgen's street credibility far outweighed my other concerns."

"Street cred?" said Max. "The guy burns in sunlight! And he has the most irritating voice ever! How much street cred could he possibly have?"

"He lives in a squalid apartment in New York."

"And...?" said Max.

"That's really all there is to it, sir," said Superball.

Max turned to look at Sam, with a hopeful expression on his face. "Sam, don't we live in a squalid apartment in New York?"

"Yeah, we do!" said Sam. To Superball, he said "Doesn't that mean we have street cred too?"

Superball looked at them for a second. "Mmm... No," he said, to Sam's disappointment.

"This will not stand!" said Max. He smacked his palm with his fist. "Sam, we're gonna need ten feet of plastic wrap, five ounces of weapons grade plutonium, and a complete book of Bach flower remedies."

"Sure thing, pal," replied Sam, "but maybe we should sort out what Jurgen's up to first."

"Who?"

Sam shook his head at him. "Anyway, let us in, Superball. We need to search the place, under suspicion of intent to plot evilly."

"Do you have a warrant, sir?" said Superball.

"Well, no, but..."

"Then I can't let you in."

"Hey, Sam!" said Max, not bothering to lower his voice. "Let's knock him out this time! Please?"

"I'd advise you not to try that, sirs," said Superball. "I'm trained in seven different forms of martial arts, and I can hold my breath for eleven minutes."

"Uh..." said Sam. "Maybe we shouldn't talk about that right in front of him." To Superball, he said "Did Jurgen at least say where he was going?"

"Yes, sir. He said something about a light snack..." began Superball, and a detailed, three dimensional map of the neighbourhood in places to eat formed in Sam's head. "And some, uh... psychotherapy."

"Psychotherapy...?" said Sam. "Sybil!"

He ran back down the stairs, with Max following. Sam liked Sybil. He didn't want Jurgen to go anywhere near her.

"Hey Sam," said Max, as they ran. "I thought Sybil was a matador this week."

Sam slowed down a little. "Yeah, but she needed a little cash after all that trouble with the Supreme Court last week."

"Oh yea—" Max tripped, and fell the rest of the way. Good thing he was so resilient, or Sam might have been concerned.

-

Sybil was feeling a little uncomfortable. She always did, when a vampire was on the other side of her desk. He was wearing a baseball cap that read "I am not a vampire and also I am an American citizen", but as disguises went, she'd seen better. Besides, the writing was so small that she could only read it because it was because he was sitting far too close to her.

Actually, under the baseball cap, he looked a little familiar.

"Weren't you at my wedding?" said Sybil. She'd had misgivings at the time, and she still did, but she had to admit that her wedding had definitely been more... interesting than it would have if she hadn't let Sam and Max handle the guest invitations.

Jurgen inspected her closely, then said "Ja, it is true... A farce, of course, but it made the monster happy."

Had he just called her wedding a farce? What a jerk. Just like her husband. Sybil was all for undead rights, but there was something about Jurgen that got under her skin. "He was _your_ monster?" How could such a nice guy have been created by such a person who was currently eyeing her like a good steak? Well, she knew one effective way of getting rid of him. "Interesting... You felt compelled to create a playmate... On a scale of one to five, with one being not at all, and five being constantly, how often would you say your parents hugged you?" Sybil had a feeling that she was getting her training as a psychotherapist confused with her training as a door to door Internet surveyist, but it probably sounded fine to an outsider.

Jurgen frowned. He looked severely uncomfortable. "Enough of this." He opened his mouth and lunged for her, and Sybil, who'd been expecting it, quickly squirted him with the bottle of garlic spray that she kept under her desk for emergencies.

Jurgen backed away with his hand over his face, hissed, and ran out the door.

Sybil sat back. That had gone pretty well, compared to the way some of her other patients behaved.

The door banged open again, but it was just Sam and Max.

"Was that Jurgen who just ran out of here crying like a schoolgirl?" said Max.

"Can you believe he tried to bite me?" said Sybil, waving around the garlic spray. "I'm just glad he paid up front." Was she shaking a little? Of course she wasn't.

"I knew he was up to something!" said Sam. He looked at Max. "Max, it's time to bring out the big guns."

Max grinned so widely that it looked like the top of his head was going to come off. "Oh boy! Dibs on the bazooka!"

"Metaphorically," added Sam, and Max groaned.

"You guys don't wanna go to jail again, huh?" said Sybil.

"Yeah," said Sam. "It's bad for morale for the police to go to jai."

It was sort of cute when they thought they were police, so Sybil said nothing. She liked to humour them sometimes.

-

Sam and Max ascended the stairs to Jurgen's apartment once more.

"These lederhosen are making my feet itch," complained Max.

Sam adjusted his feathered cap. It kept sliding off his fedora. "You're not supposed to wear them like shoes, Max."

"You know how I feel about short pants, Sam," replied Max, who was waddling as fast as he could.

"Now remember," said Sam. "I do all the talking, and you stay quiet. I took a whole semester of German in high school."

Max looked thoughtful. "Was that the class with that teacher who got arrested for people smuggling two weeks into the semester?"

"I think so..." said Sam, who honestly couldn't remember.

Superball was nowhere to be found. Sam knocked on the door that he'd been guarding. "Try to act German, Max."

"Ja wohl!" responded Max.

After a short wait, Jurgen answered the door. Sam was almost impressed. He'd never seen somebody open a door disdainfully before. "What is it?"

"Hallo," said Sam carefully. "Wir sind die deutsch Telefon-Mechanikern." He'd spent hours looking through a German dictionary to figure out what to say. Then Max had looked it up on some Internet website and found it in thirty seconds, but still, a lot of hard preparation had gone into this. And surely he could pronounce the words however he liked. There was no way the Germans could remember every weird sound in their weird language.

Jurgen stared at them for a long moment. Then he said "Oh, finally! Would you believe my German telephone has been broken since I arrived? Pathetic."

He walked inside. Sam and Max followed, into a Hell of strobe lights, flashing in every colour imaginable. Sam kept stumbling over them.

"Sam, I'm on the verge of an epileptic fit," whispered Max.

"You don't have epilepsy, Max," replied Sam under his breath. He glanced at Jurgen, but he didn't seem to have noticed.

"Maybe I'm just a late bloomer," said Max, squeezing his eyes shut.

Jurgen looked back at them. "Ugh, I am sorry you had to see my apartment in such an unfinished state. The moving company misplaced more than half of my strobe lights. Clumsy Americans."

"Uh... ja," said Sam, after a long pause.

Max opened his eyes and whispered "Hey Sam, what do we do now?"

Sam realised that he had no idea. He hadn't thought this far ahead. "Uh... Vat ist dein... evil plan...en?" he said to Jurgen.

"Oh, you know, nothing too complicated," said Jurgen. He pulled down a flowchart, blocking far too few of the flashing lights. "I turn everyone I meet into a vampire subordinate. I then instruct them to turn everyone they meet into a vampire subordinate also. Soon, everyone on Earth will be vampire, and I will be their prince!" He giggled.

So that was his plan. It was a lot like his old plan, Sam noticed, but with vampires instead of zombies.

Sam and Max backed towards the door. "Danke for... dein information," said Sam haltingly. "Wir'll just, uh, ge-leave-egen."

Max said "Du bist ein Tisch!" and pointed skyward. Sam winced.

Jurgen narrowed his eyes. "Wait a second, I know that finger point..."

Max froze with his finger still in the air. "Uh-oh."

"So, Sam und Max, you have cleverly managed to uncover my evil plans," said Jurgen casually. Sam felt behind his back for the doorknob. "Let's see how well you can ruin them after I have made you one of my vampire slaves!"

Sam gave up looking for the doorknob, which seemed to be missing, and prepared for a fight.

"Hey, are you gonna make us all emo and mopey like you?" said Max. "Because if you are, you might as well just kill me now!"

"No," said Jurgen, pinning him against the door one-handed. "You'll just become a brainless drone, with no style to speak of."

"Thank God!" Max managed. Sam tried to pull Max out of Jurgen's grip, but it didn't make a lot of difference.

And then the ceiling caved in, burying Jurgen under a shower of wood and plaster, and mercifully cutting out the lights.

"Look, Max!" said Sam, once the dust had cleared. "It's our old pals, Bruno the bigfoot, and Trixie the giraffe necked girl!"

Bruno looked up. "Hello, Sam and Max. What are you doing here? And when did you become German?"

"Beating up a vampire," said Max. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Tap dancing," said Trixie simply.

Sam shook his head. "Well... thanks. You've helped us apprehend a dangerous criminal!" He pointed at the unmoving pile of plaster they were sitting on, and Bruno looked down in confusion.

"It's the least we could do after you helped us all those years ago," said Trixie.

"Decimating the Pacific Northwest is its own reward!" replied Sam. In truth, he'd never thought he'd have to think about that case ever again, but he had to admit, it had been fun.

Jurgen's muffled voice emanated from beneath Bruno and Trixie. "You may have defeated me this time, Sam und Max, but you can never keep a vampire away for long..." And then he erupted into what, for any other villain, would have been a cheesy, bloodcurdling laugh. But instead, it was a giggle that set Sam's teeth on edge.

"Ugh," said Sam. "Let's go, Max." To Bruno and Trixie, he said "It was, uh, nice to see you again."

"Don't ever have kids!" Max called, as they left the room.

Sam thought he heard Bruno say "Too late." He shuddered, and hoped he'd misheard.

"Hey Sam?" said Max, who was looking intently at his lederhosened feet while he negotiated the stairs. "Now that Jurgen's sworn everlasting revenge on us, does that mean he's gonna be our next arch nemesis? Because I'd rather stick needles in my eyes, while hanging upside down above a pit of rabid sea scorpions, while being forced to stare at daytime TV for the rest of eternity than have _Jurgen_ follow us around."

"Du machst mich fertig, Kleiner," said Sam cheerfully.

"Huh?"

**Author's Note:**

> The comment Sam makes at the end is what he says in the German dub instead of "You crack me up, little buddy".
> 
> I'm sorry I couldn't write your first choice, Suaine. To paraphrase Max, you don't know how lucky you are. The sight of me trying to write porn... Also, I um... didn't realise you were in Germany until just now. I just like German and wanted to make jokes about Sam and Max being ignorant. Anyway, I hope you liked it.


End file.
